Therapy Session
by Cloudtrader
Summary: Deadpool gets therapy.


TITLE: Therapy Session (or, "The Story Where Deadpool Doesn't Kill Anybody!")

AUTHOR: Soul Spinner

FANDOM: Marvel Comics Universe

WARNINGS: Bad language. Gratuitous reference to an ex-president. Regis bashing. Mild sexual innuendo. Insane rambling monologue.

SUMMARY: Deadpool goes to therapy.

  
  


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Therapy Session

by Soul Spinner

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My life's a joke.

  
  


Hell, my whole fucking UNIVERSE is a joke.

  
  


And I'm the only one who gets it.

  
  


Everyone else? They just think I'm crazy, twisted, demented, a few beers short of a six-pack, mad as a hatter whose lost his hat, pick-your-synonym-for-insane-of-choice. Except maybe the Watcher. He KNOWS. But I've always figured him as being one of your REALLY whacked nut-jobs. I mean, what is with all that "what if..." shit?! And his name. C'mon, Uatu?! The dude's gotta be insane... goes around wearing a nightgown...

  
  


But I digress. I tend to do that a lot. I was talking about the joke that is my life. Or rather, my lack of life. See, I'm a fictional character. Yep, that's right folks, a figment of some freak's psychotic mind! Nope, this isn't any of that philosophy bull. I know for an absolute FACT. Why do I know? Because I'm WRITTEN that way! Hence, the "my life is a joke" bit.

  
  


You see, there's this man... with a type writer...

  
  


I try to tell the others, really I do. But do they thank me? NO! I try to tell Thor and what does it get me? A Mjolnir-sandwich, that's what! Almost as bad as watching Regis say "is that your final answer" over and over again!

  
  


You want examples proving the "my life is a joke" thing? Well, letsee. Ah, right. Let's start with girlfriends. So, the love of my life is killed by a bad-assed mercenary dude and I spiral down into the dark madness. Then, my "angel-with-a-dirty-halo" is resurrected and I find out that I'M the one who offed her, that I'm NOT who I thought I was, and that I've been using the wrong moisturizer all these years! Right. Then there's the chick whose father was a Sumo wrestler I was hired to kill. And then the psychotic bitch from hell with three personalities, one of which hates all men. And there was Copycat. But, well, let's just say that she WASN'T the "hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold" and I CERTAINLY wasn't in love with her. Really! There's Theresa. Ah... Theresa. My Siryn. She almost lured me back to sanity. But... Oh, and then there's Death. Yep, the personification of entropy herself. Do I know how to pick 'em or what? Blind Al? Yee-uck! That's just... scary. Besides, I don't go for chicks who once dated Captain America. Especially FOSSILIZED chicks who once dated Captain America. And besides, I think I killed her. Not the first time that's happened.

  
  


Need more proof? Okay, on to my boyfriends. What, a guy can't swing both ways? They don't call me the "merc-with-a-mouth" for nothin'... Ahem. Yes, well... Weasel. Good ole Weasel. Blown to bits. That kinda sucks. But not as good as he sucked... Heh. Tell you the truth? As if! No, no, a lot of people -- most of them now six feet under -- think I have the hots for Wolverine, what with me always trying to kill him and all. But it ain't true! If I was to go for any Canadian, it'd have to be Sasquatch. All big and furry... like a teddy bear... Or maybe Weapon X. Nawh. He's cute but the detachable body parts gag just squicks me.

  
  


I got propositioned by Cable and Domino for a threesome once! But she has this whole dominatrix thing and I've had quite enough of the tying-up routine in my life time. Torture and all that. You know who they remind me of? Old Ronnie and Nancy Reagan on steroids! You haf'ta kinda look at 'em from an angle to see the resemblance...

  
  


Need more proof? I had a midget clone. I was the savior of the world when I killed a google-eyed space baby. I have cancer and a healing factor. Some freakazoid god called Loki claims he's my father and gave me the face of a movie star. I live on a world populated by people with odd names who dress up in colorful spandex! What more do you need?!

  
  


Okay, Doc, so there it is. Yeah, yeah, I know you don't believe me. You think clashing mutants, alien invasions, Elvis-lookalikes from Beyond, mystical artifacts of Aggravated-Mottoes, talking ducks, non-lethal gamma radiation, and African countries ruled by giant kitty-cats are REAL, don't you? Our world is just so absurd!

  
  


Um, no offense Doc -- Samson, was it? -- but I don't think I'll be coming back. Doc Bong's therapy sessions are much more fun. He lets me beat the crap outta people!

  
  


You know, you REALLY should do something about that green hair. You may be a figment of some nerd's imagination but you don't have to LOOK stupid.

  
  


Reality is a state of mind, Doc. It can be cured.

  
  


Ta, ta!

  
  


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The End

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"Life's a joke and so are you!"


End file.
